


Truths

by anthonyjstark



Series: Tadfield Advertiser - Good Almonds [2]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Crowley and Aziraphale through time, Crowley has chronic pain, Disabled Crowley (Good Omens), First Kiss, Fluff and Angst, Hurt Crowley, M/M, Pining Aziraphale (Good Omens), Pining Crowley (Good Omens), aziraphale knows things, its angsty but not, mostly self indulgent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-04
Updated: 2019-07-04
Packaged: 2020-06-09 12:30:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,329
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19475968
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anthonyjstark/pseuds/anthonyjstark
Summary: Despite common belief, Aziraphale is aware of Crowley's pains.





	Truths

**Author's Note:**

> This is sort of rushed, so if it's a bit OOC, sorry (:
> 
> Also something went wrong with the posting so if some paragraphs are Italicised just ignite it.

It had been obvious, the first time they had truly met.

They had seen each other multiple times before the Ark. It had been a small world at the time, not many places to go, only a certain amount of people to see. Of course, the Ark was the first Big Event for them both. Yet the occasional flash of yellow eyes or the angelic glow of white hair seemed to be something they both looked forward to far more often than anything Big.

Their first true meeting had still been on that boat. Not before it, when they had spoken of the children and Her plans. Not even in the Garden. It was on the trip itself that they had officially made themselves known to one another. 

Aziraphale held his breath and stopped where he was standing. He rather disliked the creaking noises of the vessel, and hoped very much that the Almighty's "Rain-Bow" would truly make up for this entire fiasco.

The boat groaned and shook. Aziraphale grumbled, using the nearest wall for support. He very much hated boats. He decided this early on.

Aziraphale slipped and fell to his knees, just barely missing a pile of some mush substance. He pulled a disgusted face.

It had better be a darn _good rain-bow._

Once the ship steadied itself slightly, Aziraphale continued on to find himself a nice place to sit. He had decided that thinking was a rather pleasant pass time, if it's done correctly. He wasn't set on what to call it yet, but creating places and things for people to do in his mind was surprisingly fun. 

Stating like that sounded slightly insane, but he was sure it would catch on at some point. 

Aziraphale's footsteps crossed over one another as the boat lurched onto its side once more. A few empty crates slid with him, and he could hear the same happening in rooms up ahead. In fact, if Aziraphale listened closely enough, he could just make out the low murmur of voices. 

Aziraphale pushed himself up and struggled across the deck. Finding the voices was becoming easier as he twisted around the halls, but the water continued pushing up against the ship, which continuously made getting there more difficult. 

Eventually the angel made his way to a cluster of different areas, some leading down other halls, some into seperate rooms. Unfortunately for Aziraphale, non of these places appeared to be occupied. Maybe he was hallucinating, or hearing the animals and such in other areas. 

Giving a defeated sigh, Aziraphale turned on his heel to find somewhere else. He was more than delighted to find that doing such caused the floor to creak and bounce lightly underneath the weight of his foot. Not right away, of course. Almost no one is happy to find that the floor could possibly break underneath them. However, when Aziraphale looked down, he saw the faint outline of a door. 

Aziraphale stared down at the floor stupidly for a few ticks. He was not decided as to why* he was searching for this mysterious voice, but most of all he was confused as to why this person had decided to hide away. Although, that is also exactly what he had done, so he could not really blame them. 

(*Deep down Aziraphale knew exactly why - or, more precisely, whom - he was looking for. He just was not ready to admit that yet.) 

After about one more second** Aziraphale had pulled up the moulded hatch in the floorboards and had climbed his way down the small ladder. 

(**Time had not become a construct concept still, so seconds were more like minutes then) 

When Aziraphale made it down it was dark, and damp, and the smell of mildew was almost enough to make him pass out altogether. However, as he ventured into the short cabin's hall, the small voice caught his ear. 

"It's alright now. Just go to sleep. Everything will be better when you wake. I promise." 

Aziraphale's eyebrows shot up, lips parting slightly with surprise. He leaned deeper into the darkness, heart pounding faster than it ever*** had before. 

(***It was true in the very sense of the word that Aziraphale's heart had never beat so fast ever _before. He hadn't used it very often yet)_

__

__

There, in the very center of a holed up room, was a small light illuminating the area. It appeared to be coming from the fingertips of a man who himself looked like the embodiment of fire itself. 

Aziraphale could not believe what he was seeing. If he had been human he was highly certain the needed air the Almighty had given them would have been stripped away from him with the pure shock received. 

"Crawly?" he called, gently as possible. 

Crawly's golden eyes flicked up quickly. His pupils were momentarily dilated, but, upon spotting Aziraphale, they went back down to normal size. 

"Hey, angel! Don't be shy, come here. But, uh, be quiet, yeah?" Crawly waved Aziraphale over to the boxes he sat on. 

Upon inspection, Aziraphale was even more surprised that Crawly appeared to have a small group of children huddled around him; four, to be precise. One slept in his lap, another on his shoulder, the other wrapped around his legs and the last one lying on their friend. 

"What are you doing?" Aziraphale questioned as he edged closer to them. Despite his suspicion, Aziraphale attempted to stay silent. They were just children, after all. 

Crawly shifted slightly, and Aziraphale watched as a slight wince crossed over the demon's features. The child on his shoulder grunted and curled in tighter. Crawly paid no attention and offered Aziraphale the other empty space next to him. With a resigned exhale, Aziraphale sat, hands folded neatly in his lap.

"If you really want to know, angel," Crawly replied in hushed tones,"I'm defying your boss." 

Aziraphale raised a questioning brow. He wasn't certain he liked that very much, but he asked anyhow, "Oh? And how might you be doing that?" 

Crawly looked at the kids pointedly. "They're supposed to die, yeah?" 

"Well-" Aziraphale thinned his lips out, blinking. "Yes, I do suppose that's correct." 

"There you go, then," Crawly said, a sly grin on his face. "Kids are going to live now, angel. Bet the Almighty won't like that, eh?" 

He bumped Aziraphale's shoulder with his own. Aziraphale didn't miss the tense muscle spasm afterward, but he didn't bring it up, either. 

For a moment Aziraphale nearly asked what about Crawly's plan was actually Bad. But then he thought back to standing with him just outside the Ark, watching as these exact kids had laughed and chased eachother with such unconditional joy. The look on Crawly's face when Aziraphale had told him Her plans... 

Understanding settled inAziraphale. He risked a glanced at Crawly, who was entranced with moving one of the little girl's hair from her closed eyes. In that moment, Crawly looked no more like a demon than Aziraphale. In fact, he looked almost nice. 

Aziraphale hid his smile. "Yes, a very good- er, well, bad- plan, indeed. You're going to be a worthy Adversary, Crawly, I'll tell you that right now." 

Crawly turned back to Aziraphale with a pushed smile. "Yeah, you too, angel." 

Aziraphale liked the way that sounded on Crawly's tongue. He didn't think about it again after that for a very long time, but the feeling remained. 

The ship tilted again with a loud crunch. Aziraphale naturally latched onto Crawly's shoulder as their seats slammed into the wall closest to him. He could hear more than see the soft grunt Crawly gave as his muscles tensed upon impact, followed by the slight shake in the demon's bones. 

Aziraphale swallowed thickly and glanced wearily at Crawly. "Are you alright?" 

Crawly perked up instantly, flashing another signature snake smile. "Yeah, of course. Absolutely perfect." 

Aziraphale nodded, not quite believing him, but decided to ignore it. He followed Crawly's looks down to the children, who merely whimpered lightly and clung to Crawly tighter. 

Crawly shushed them, which sounded very much like the light hiss of a serpent. His bony fingers ran across their cheeks and arms individually, and he whispered something to each that even Aziraphale could not pick up on. 

Aziraphale watched it happen, feeling almost as though he were intruding. "You're very good with them." 

Crawly hummed in acknowledgment. "Yeah, well." 

He stopped his sentence there. Aziraphale let it slide and settled for watching Crawly calm them back down until they looked peaceful once more. 

Aziraphale turned back to Crawly himself, interest levels peaked. "Where did you learn how to tend to them?" 

"You say that like they're crops," Crawly stated. Aziraphale didn't even flinch when he was met with those eyes this time. He felt pride at that. Usually he was phased by them. 

"It's really not that difficult," he answered afterwards. "Just feed 'em and make sure they aren't bored. Keep 'em safe." 

Aziraphale still didn't understand, but he nodded as if he did anyhow. "Ah."

They stared for a while longer and listened absently to the creak of the vessel. 

"You know," Aziraphale whispered after a pause,"we're probably going to be here for a very long while." 

Crawly's nose turned up. "Yeah? What's your point?" 

Aziraphale shrugged and faced forward once more. "I figured that if we're going to be stuck with each other as enemies we should at least get to know each other a bit. Don't you think?" 

The amused laugh that came from Crawly pulled the slightest of a smile from Aziraphale. He wasn't sure how to feel about that yet. 

_"Are you suggesting we talk, angel? As_ mutuals _?"_

__

__

Aziraphale scoffed at the idea, but allowed himself a small bit of joy. "I wouldn't say mutuals, per-say..." 

"Oh, yes," Crawly nodded, and Aziraphale met his gaze at last. The grin on the demon's face sent chills down his spine. He gulped. 

"I'm beginning to regret proposing this in the first place," Aziraphale admitted. Crawly chuckled. 

"No backing out now, angel, you're fully committed. And don't look so nervous. I'm not that bad!" 

Aziraphale rolled his eyes. "You're a demon, Crawly. You're supposed to be bad." 

Crawly shrugged. His shoulders hitched a bit. "Eh." He nodded at Aziraphale. "You start." 

A long inhale had Aziraphale sighing. He shook his head and leaned back against the musty wall. 

"Where to start, then..." 

_\----_

There were many times through the ages where they met up again. The next most obvious place had been Rome. 

_It was not as if Aziraphale could clearly see it in the way Craw-_ Crow _ley moved or anything like that. That day it was simply the stiff movement of his shoulders, the strong drink in his hand and the all too easy snap in his tone._

__

__

The day they met at the production of Hamlet they had flipped for who would ride the horse. A simple part of the arrangement, of course. Crowley had lost, Aziraphale knew that. He had seen what side the coin landed on and known full well Crowley lied so he would not have to endure the ride. Aziraphale did not mind. As long as Crowley did not hurt, he was alright. 

_\---_

The time Crowley had given him the first holy water request Aziraphale had nearly slapped* him. 

(*The idea of actually slapping Crowley seemed a bit too much for him, but Aziraphale certainly would have done something to get through the demon's thick skull) 

It was simple, holy water. Being an angel, Aziraphale could have turned to the water at St. James and done whatever he wanted with it then and there. But he had not and he would not. 

Aziraphale had actually begun to physically shake when Crowley handed him that slip. The thought of losing Crowley seemed like something he could never bare to do, even if it were simply temporary discorporation. Asking for holy water felt like Crowley had completely disregarded their entire friendship and threw it into Hell to burn and rot away until it became nothing more than something for the other demons to laugh at. 

Going back to the original statement, Aziraphale had been mere seconds away from showing Crowley a physical representing of his emotions when he saw it. The twitch. 

A simple twitch, of all things, is what made Aziraphale, an Angel, Guardian of The Eastern Gate, Principality, Avid Book Collector, almost break down in the middle of St. James Park. 

_Crowley's fingers were clutched around a cane, which also added to the horror. His knuckles were white and_ shaking _. The twitch was just above Crowley's cheek, which anyone else would recognise as annoyance. Aziraphale could make out the difference based off of all the different clues._

__

__

Aziraphale's chest ached. It was all too much to handle. Fraternising with a demon? With a demon who didn't even seem to care about their relationship. Who would much rather throw it all away for- for what? Aziraphale wasn't even sure on the details, he just knew he couldn't anymore. Couldn't what, he wasn't even certain. 

So he left Crowley, stranded. If he had turned around he would have seen the demon use the cane he held to walk away. 

_\----_

Aziraphale did not like to think about the church*. He had gotten his books and went straight back to the shop to wallow in silence for a very long time. 

(*Aziraphale thought about it a lot, anyhow. Even though it caused him pain, thinking about it somehow brightened his day.) 

Then came along the next holy water heist. Aziraphale should have been expecting it. The last time he had seen Crowley he had nearly stolen the vat in that church. It should have been no surprise he would try for it again. 

It was anyway. 

Aziraphale had been careful, when he designed the Thermos. No matter what Crowley's use for it would be, injuring him right away would not be the best option. 

He did not approve still. He did not think he would ever approve** of this choice on Crowley's end. The thought that he would use it as a suicide pill was still lodged into Aziraphale's head space and he could not get it out. 

(**He approved after Crowley used it on Ligur) 

_Aziraphale did that a lot; worry. Crowley would probably tell*** Aziraphale to get a hold of himself and to not be so nervous. That Aziraphale was_ fine _._

__

__

(***Crowley would never tell Aziraphale in such a rude manner. Aziraphale knew full well the demon would be as gentle as possible when it came to him, but Aziraphale couldn't bring himself to think of that) 

Aziraphale repeated the last line in his head like mantra after he exited that Bentley, not quite sure what else to do with his head spinning and his stomach twisted in knots. "You go to fast for me?" What was the supposed to mean? 

He was not sure who he was saying was "fine," in the end. 

_\----_

Nanny Ashtoreth was odd, Aziraphale thought. 

He knew full well that underneath all of that makeup and that dress and bonnet it was just Crowley, but Aziraphale could not help but think Nanny Ashtoreth was a part of the old serpent too. 

Aziraphale decided very early he rather liked Nanny Ashtoreth, just as Crowley liked Brother Francis. 

"How's it going with you, dear?" Aziraphale asked lightly. He sipped at his cocoa with fake teeth in and watched as Crowley reapplied lipstick in the mirror. 

Crowley shrugged and popped his lips. "Warlock's doing fine on my part. Likes my," he glanced at Aziraphale with a devilish* smile,"celestial harmonies." 

_(*Pun_ intended _)_

__

__

Aziraphale rolled his eyes and wacked Crowley playfully. "You be quiet, you old serpent." 

Crowley chuckled, eyes tight behind Ashtoreth's shades. Aziraphale's heart swelled at the sight, but he pushed it down, returning the beam fondly. 

"He talks about you quite a lot," Aziraphale added. Crowley hummed and fixed up his hair some more. "Says you're his favorite Nanny." 

_"I'm his only Nanny."_

"Yes, well," Aziraphale chided,"you know what I mean." 

Crowley glanced back at Aziraphale then. He grabbed at his umbrella and turned, leaning heavily on it. Aziraphale's throat closed up, but he said nothing. 

"Well," Crowley said, using his Ashtoreth voice,"young Warlock tells me you are his favorite gardener. And they have plenty of those." 

Aziraphale beamed, glad his fake bush hid the heat the had risen up to his cheeks. "You've always been better with children, dear." 

"Nghk." Crowley shrugged, voice normal, and his lips pulled a little as his shoulder blades rose. He pretended it never happened. "What can I say? Kids get me." 

"That's because you're a child, Crowley," Aziraphale teased, enjoying the sneer Crowley gave him. 

They both perked up to the outside door's bell ringing, followed by the light pitter patter of footsteps. 

"Nanny! Guess what I found!" 

Crowley sighed. "Sounds like our young Warlock is back from play time." He placed his bonnet on his head. 

Aziraphale nodded. "I should go before he sees me. Can't have them thinking we're in cahoots." 

"Cahoots? Really?" 

Aziraphale shot a short glare towards Crowley, but it lacked the hint of bitterness he was trying to reveal. Upon hearing Warlock's call once more, this time closer, Aziraphale gave up on scolding Crowley. He smiled, albeit slightly sad. They wouldn't be able to talk like this for at least another week. 

"Goodbye, my dear. Shall we grab a bite next time?" 

"Yeah," Crowley answered shortly, glancing momentarily over. He leaned into his umbrella. 

Aziraphale bit his lip and went away quickly as Crowley called out to Warlock. The need to say more left him feeling stranded as he stopped just around the corner. 

"Were you running in the house, deary?" he heard Crowley ask. Or, Nanny Ashtoreth, to be specific. 

Warlock scuffed his feet. "I'm sorry, Nanny. Brother Francis already told me not to. Please don't tell my mom." 

Aziraphale listened very closely as Nanny Ashtoreth clicked her tongue. 

"What did I tell you about listening to that Gardener, Warlock? I won't tell your mother, but you mustn't speak with Brother Francis." 

Aziraphale could practically hear Warlock's grin. "Thank you, Nanny!"

"Yes, yes, alright now, get ahold of yourself." 

Warlock ran away once more after that. It was followed by the light tap of Nanny Ashtoreth's umbrella. 

_\----_

Everything was over. 

The Earth was alive. Humans were still walking around. Sushi places were running, bookshops were somewhat active and old Bentley's that only played Queen were racing through the streets of London at impossible speeds. 

Everything was normal again. 

Which was exactly why Crowley was still lying in bed, curled in on himself, knees pressed into his chest tightly. 

_He thought about calling Aziraphale. He had thought about calling Aziraphale a lot in the 6,000 years they had been together, but not one time had he actually done it. There was a reason for that, Crowley knew. There was always a reason to convince himself* not to call Aziraphale, most of them being Hell would_ not _like it._

__

__

_(*It Wasn't That Bad, Aziraphale Would Just Worry, Don't Think Much Of It, It's Normal,_ Get Over It _)_

_Unfortunately for Crowley that was no longer a reliable reason to put it off anymore._

__

__

He glanced over slowly at his cell. It's not like Aziraphale would mind, in any case. The angel always had open arms to Crowley. There was no true reason to not call him any more. 

Crowley swallowed, groaning as it scratched down his throat and pulled at the muscles on his body. He forced himself into a sitting position, knowing full well just lying there all day would not help anything. 

"Damn everything," he mumbled. Then, a little bit louder,"Call Aziraphale." 

_"_ Calling Aziraphale _."_

_\--_

Aziraphale stared blankly at his angel wing mug. He had forgotten it, of course, after the Apocalypse-That-Wasn't, so it still sat atop his desk, cold cocoa now with a faint dusting of something he would rather not like to think about. 

It had been two weeks since. 

Aziraphale could have cleaned up the cocoa anytime he wished. He had not. He could not. There was something about the mug sitting there, rotting away, that kept him remembering. So he left it. 

The last time he had seen Crowley they had been dining at The Ritz. Both had made their way home at nine, precisely, with a sense of regret on either end. At least it had been on Aziraphale's side. 

Crowley and Aziraphale had not really left each other's sides in eleven years. Although it might not be long for them, in a way, it felt like eternity for Aziraphale. Two mere human weeks felt longer, strangely enough, now that they were apart. 

He did not like it. Not one bit. 

Aziraphale realised he had been attempting to read while thinking through all of this. Never before had he gotten distracted from reading, which must have been some sort of sign, he supposed. 

He closed the book. He wasn't even certain what he was reading, so there would be no reason to continue. Besides, there was too much on his mind to get into it by now. 

Crowley was Aziraphale's best friend. He had been since the Ark. The problem, Azirarphale found, was that he could never actually get together with the demon. Heaven and Hell had always been very strict with fraternising with each other. Except now, Aziraphale thought. They did not care what Crowley and Aziraphale thought or did anymore.

Aziraphale's breath caught. The church flashed back into his mind for a moment. He shook the idea away. 

Without removing his specs, Aziraphale lunged towards the phone and began dialing. In the back of his vast brain he thought of Crowley's ridiculous receiver*. Aziraphale rolled his eyes. Dramatic prat. 

(*He had never heard the thing in the past. Apparently Crowley had always just picked up, so Aziraphale never got the chance to listen to it. He found that almost sweet to think about.) 

Aziraphale jumped, pulling away before he could finish dialing Crowley. The phone was ringing, but not the one he was on. He glanced over at the wall phone, eyes wide. 

"What a coincidence," he muttered, going over faster than he even intended. 

See, the phone on Aziraphale's desk is the one everyone calls, and the one he uses to call everyone else. The way he sees it, or, more specifically, the way Crowley put it, was that it is his Work Phone. It was the only device anyone in the universe knew to call for any reason whatsoever. 

Except Crowley. 

_Crowley had a direct line to Aziraphale's "mobile" phone. Every once in a while it would accidently be called by someone, but Aziraphale would direct them somewhere else because No, Mr. Creevice, for the last time, I am not Mrs. Bernedad, now will you_ please _stop calling this number?_

__

__

Which meant there were only two possibilities as that phone rang. One, it was that damned Mr. Creevice again, or- 

"Crowley?" 

Crowley hummed lazily, sounding half asleep. His voice rose to a dazed pitch when he spoke. 

"Hey, angel, how's it goin'?" 

Aziraphale smiled despite himself. It seemed he missed Crowley far more than he even realised. 

"Very well, dear. In fact, I was in the middle of ringing you up when the phone rang! Funny little thing, isn't that?" 

Crowley chuckled lowly. Aziraphale found that he did that more often when they were alone; laugh. He liked that. 

"Yeah, it is," Crowley replied. If Aziraphale listened closely he could hear the demon's strained breathing patterns. Concern welled up in his gut. 

"Listen, angel, there's something I have to tell you, but I need you to meet me," Crowley continued. 

There was a light rustling noise which Aziraphale connected to a door opening. He sucked in a breath and nodded. A flush came over him once he remembered Crowley could not see that. 

"Of course, my dear. Shall I bring anything for whatever this occasion might be?" 

Crowley choked out a small grunt of a sound. Aziraphale's stomach dropped and then shot up into his throat. He knew that noise. He'd heard he many times before. Something was wrong. 

"No, it's not that type of announcement. Just meet me at St. James, yeah?"

Aziraphale frowned, eyes hard behind the safety of the telephone. He swallowed. "Yes. See you shortly, Crowley." 

"Yeah. Right. Bye." 

The tone clicked off. Aziraphale bit his cheek and removed his glasses, rubbing at his nose. He didn't bother grabbing his overcoat before sighing and miracling himself to their usual spot. 

_\--_

Crowley shifted awkwardly on the bench. The way he sat never really helped, to be truthful, but on occasion it relieved a slight bit of ache from his back. It was rare, but it certainly happened. 

That day was not one of those times. 

There was a certain mist over St. James then. Being cold blooded* made the moisture of the air get into Crowley's bones much more than a normal pain, which seemed to be a nightmare living where he lived. Honestly, the demon had no clue why he stuck around**. The weather never did much good for his body nor his health. 

(*He was still a snake, in most aspects, which included this) (**Yes, he did, and that idea happened to be a person who happened to be an angel) 

Crowley shifted his leg slowly, crunching his teeth as it sent convulsing currents up his spine. From what he imagines in order to describe it, the feeling of Crowley at almost all times is what happens when a human's limbs so-called 'fall asleep.' Take the prickling, needle jabbing annoyance of that, crank it up to about one hundred, leave it on vibrate and add electric shock therapy in, that's what Crowley's body felt like. At least on a good day. 

In all truthfulness, as much as a demon can be***, Crowley did not mind it as much as one would think. Demons and angels are made to be stronger in most subjects, which includes pain tolerance - to a point. Which is exactly what Crowley fears. 

(***However, Crowley rarely lies) 

In the beginning, the agony of his bones cracking together to start a fire from the friction and the constant pulse of icy heat coursing through him was almost too much for Crowley to handle. At one point Crowley had actually went to a human healer, back in the earliest days of Earth. It had been long before the Ark, but also far after he had met Aziraphale in the Garden. 

One would assume pain settles in quickly, but, if it is thought about from perspective, it comes just the opposite for most things. 

Right after the Fall Crowley had felt... Free. There were no binds to hold him down under the hand of the Almighty. No scorchingly bright lights from angelic grace to blind him. It was incredibly uplifting. 

Then he had opened his wings, only to find they were mere shreds of blood, ash and soot. The black, funnily enough, had not come from Falling itself, but they were stained from fire. He could never quite get it out. Of course, it wasn't like they exactly had soap in the olden days. They didn't even have days in the olden days. 

Crowley had not even registered the pain when he had seen his wings. All he had been able to do was watch with a dumbfounded expression on his face as his wings burned with a sort of unholy brightness****. That was until Crowley had found himself in the form of a scaled creature buried under the dirt. 

(****More like a shroud of darkness which just happened to glow like the light would.) 

Pain only began when he first turned himself back into a human form instead of a serpent. It wasn't even intense, then, more of an annoying throb from between his shoulder blades and around his pelvis. He had marked it down as not being used to standing. 

From there it increased steadily until at long last, he got used to it. 

_Crowley didn't like that; being used to it. He never had. The thought tended to sit wrong in his brain. Crowley always thought getting rid of the pain made more sense than getting used to it. Which is why it was terrifying to find himself_ okay _with it._

__

__

No one should be alright with agony. It just didn't seem right. 

So there Crowley sat, sprawled on a park bench, hips drumming against his body to the same beat his spine gave; A song he knew all the words to. 

He almost jumped out of his skin***** when Aziraphale popped up next to him. Crowley got lost in thought like that often, Aziraphale found. He had for a very, very long time. 

(*****Which could actually happen, to an extent. Again, snake.) 

"Good afternoon, my dear," Aziraphale greeted. He needn't look at Crowley to see the slumped over position or the terrible posture, but he did anyhow. 

Crowley smiled. He genuinely smiled, which Aziraphale was beginning to understand was much more common for Crowley now that the forces of Heaven and Hell were off their backs. 

Well, at least in a technical sense. 

"Hey, angel," Crowley said. "You look good." 

Aziraphale gave his own smile of affection. For some reason it didn't feel right, he thought absently. Perhaps it was the distinct upset layered carefully behind Crowley's shades. Aziraphale swallowed down his nerves. 

"Alright then, dearest, I must ask," Aziraphale began. He took his gaze off of Crowley, instead taking to the scenery of the ducks and humans around. "Whatever is so urgent that you must tell me?" 

Crowley grunted, also looking at the pond. "Well, first, stop talking like we're back in the 1800s. It's the 21st century, angel, you might as well act like it." 

Aziraphale shot Crowley a sidelong glare before returning to the animals. They bobbed their heads under the water for bread crumbs anyone happened to be throwing their way. Mostly he was trying to keep his anxiety under control, which, based off of the badly aimed tease, so was Crowley. Not a good sign. 

Crowley cleared his throat. He scooted around on the bench, seemingly unable to find a comfortable position. 

"I've been keeping something from you, Aziraphale," he admitted. 

Crowley sounded almost quiet, to the angel's surprise. Not to mention the use of his name. That was certainly unsettling. Aziraphale pursed his lips into a thin line. 

"Spit it out then, dear. It's rude to keep waiting." 

Crowley moved around again. He didn't even attempt to keep the slight serpentine hiss of pain under his tongue. Aziraphale could see how Crowley's expression faltered, nose scrunching out of the corner of his eye. One snakelike hand reached down and soothed over Crowley's hips rhythmically, jaw tensed. 

_Oh._

_Realisation rammed into Aziraphale about the same as he imagined what Anathema felt like after the Bentley had hit her. That, or just a_ very _firm slap to the face._

__

__

_"Y'know that pick up line? The, er, 'Did it hurt when you fell from heaven' one? Well, erm, it did." Then, quieter, "_ S _till does."_

__

__

Aziraphale stopped short, and his body quit working completely. His mouth went dry, and for a moment he wondered if there was tissue paper stuffed in his cheeks. 

"I know, Crowley," Aziraphale answered, just as lightly. 

Crowley's eyes were on him in a flash. His lips were parted in a slight gape. 

_"I'm sorry," started Crowley,"you_ what _?"_

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Aziraphale couldn't help thinking back to the first time Crowley had said that to him, on that wall. He looked very similar in this situation as he had then, except with shorter, cleaner hair and much less amusement. 

A scoff, and Aziraphale glanced at Crowley with that knowing gaze of his. "Don't look at me like that, Crowley, you know very well that if I had mentioned it previously you would have ignored me. Possibly gone to sleep for another century." 

"Wh-" Crowley's words came out in a huff of random syllables, face contorting between anger and offense without an in between. 

Aziraphale watched it play out with partial interest. He was mostly just waiting for Crowley to calm down so he could ask him to lunch. It was nearly one in the afternoon. Aziraphale was getting particularly hungry. 

_"You- I've been- We've known- Ho- six_ thousand _-"_

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Aziraphale's eyebrows lifted up into his hairline. At the very least it was progress. Crowley was using logical words at the best now. 

Crowley inhaled sharply, removed his glasses and pointed them at Aziraphale with fire in his eyes. He opened his mouth to speak, but Aziraphale raised a finger, effectively silencing him. 

"Before anything is said, I would just like to say thank you. For telling me, of course. I, erm, I know how difficult it can be for you when it comes to things like this." He offered a delicate smile. 

Crowley's newly exposed eyes, still narrowed, blinked. Then he said absolutely nothing. He simply stared, without moving, not even breathing to make certain his form didn't make a singular motion. 

Aziraphale actually became worried after a certain amount of time. Originally he had chalked up the silence as Crowley being, simply put, Crowley, but by now he was thinking that maybe something was genuinely wrong. 

He turned fully towards the demon, eyeing how still Crowley was. Aziraphale bit his cheek. It had been obvious Crowley was having a bad day on the pain scale, if there even were such a thing. Perhaps this whole fiasco had made it worse. Crowley really hadn't been expecting Aziraphale to know about it. The shock could have made it worse. 

Aziraphale's head swam with anxious possibilities as to why Crowley remained still, almost none of them being pleasant thoughts. 

"Crowley, please, I'm so sorry," Aziraphale eventually pleaded. He wanted to reach out, to touch him, but he wasn't sure if it would make it worse or not. 

"You know," Crowley whispered, at long last. Somehow it did not make Aziraphale feel any more reassured,"I thought I lost you, angel. Back then, in your bookshop. Seems like a lifetime ago, doesn' it?"

Aziraphale's throat closed up, having not expected that response. He blinked heavily. "It really does, yes." 

For a moment there was a flash of hurt in Crowley's eyes, but the demon had turned away and put his glasses back on before Aziraphale could look further in to it. 

"Yeah," Crowley mumbled. He twisted his hips and stretched out his legs. 

A dark pit of despair had formed in Aziraphale's gut. He watched Crowley for a little while, his eyes stinging for no apparent reason. Aziraphale's teeth clenched against the emotion. 

"I must ask, my dear," Aziraphale mustered the courage to say,"what, exactly, does that have to do with this?" 

There was a gruff noise made from inside Crowley's chest. He turned fully away from Aziraphale then, crossing his arms. 

"You're a bloody idiot for being so damn smart, angel," he repented. "Did I ever tell you that?" 

Aziraphale bit the inside of his cheek. "Yes, I believe you have." 

Crowley stared off for a bit longer until he moved. His knees made an unsettling pop sound when he bent them, but Crowley didn't seem to mind all that much. 

"Crowley," Aziraphale continued. He kept his voice as level as possible. "Look at me, dearest." 

Aziraphale could feel waves of emotion coming off of Crowley, but one in particular seemed to be most prominent. It made sense, he supposed. What other reason would there be? 

It took a moment, but eventually Crowley looked over. His eyes were only just visible. Aziraphale stared right into them. 

"I'm terribly sorry, my dear. I should have known. Well, I did. Sort of." 

Crowley's face contorted into confusion, then anger, and finally sorrow. Aziraphale's heart went through the same bit of emotional stress. He was glad Crowley couldn't tell. It would have made the situation that much more difficult on Aziraphale's end, as well as Crowley too. 

Taking a deep breath, Aziraphale took Crowley's hand with his. He stroked his thumb over Crowley's knuckles in the most comforting gesture he could. If he felt a tremor he didn't mention it. Aziraphale was beginning to realise he did that quite often; not mention it. He hoped to fix that soon. 

Crowley's body tensed, but the strain of it seemed a bit too much, so he settled for tapping his free hand. He wasn't certain where this was going, but the anxiety had already pooled up above neck height. Soon it would get into his mouth and nose, and Crowley would be forced to drown. He bit against it, willing his nerves to calm. 

"You know I can feel... Things, Crowley," Aziraphale pushed on. He could sense in that very moment the fear building up inside of Crowley. It almost caused him to break contact it was so strong, but Aziraphale pushed it down. 

"You would think being so interested in reading would make me spectacular with words," he giggled, hoping the twinge at the edge of his lips would pass on to Crowley. 

Crowley's adams apple bobbed. "Aziraphale-" 

"Crowley, just..." Aziraphale interrupted once more. He shook as he exhaled. "I should have told you. I should have told you a very long time ago because I could feel how much it tore you up inside. Everytime we met, I knew-" 

_Aziraphale stopped short, lungs hitching, brain ending with the thought that he didn't actually need to breathe, this was alright, he was_ fine _._

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There was a tense feeling in the air which seeped deep into Aziraphale's hypothetical soul. He wasn't even decided as to why that was. Something seemed right in that moment, despite it. 

Aziraphale's words fell silent. Everything seemed to go silent while they sat there, hand in hand, minds on a completely different plane of existence. Literally and figuratively. 

His eyes flickered down from Crowley's, which were still shrouded away, for a second. Crowley's fingers jumped, but what from Aziraphale wasn't sure yet. 

Aziraphale's eyes met Crowley's, except they really didn't, being behind those dark shades of his. He found that incredibly annoying. For some odd reason he was compelled to see Crowley. 

With his free hand, Aziraphale removed Crowley's glasses for the second time that day. 

Crowley blinked against the sun's light. It wasn't bright out yet, but constantly wearing shades made even the dullest of times like staring into a flashlight. 

He found he wasn't moving still and shimmied one of his legs underneath the other. His torso turned towards Aziraphale. They both listened to the groan of Crowley's bones twisting. 

"What'cha do that for?" Crowley shot back, now fully open to Aziraphale's gaze. 

He felt almost subconscious, sitting there, revealed. Crowley felt as one of Aziraphale's palms rested against his his cheek, thumb resting just below the eyelid. Aziraphale hummed. 

"I like your eyes." Aziraphale never looked away as he said that. Crowley's chest tightened. "They remind me of you." 

Crowley's tongue swiped over his teeth then. "A worthy adversary?" he quoted, if not bitterly. 

Aziraphale blinked. He shook his head no. Aziraphale admired the way that Crowley never broke eye contact through it all. That said something about him, Aziraphale thought. 

Crowley held his breath, body aching relentlessly against him still. He searched Aziraphale's eyes for a while longer. 

"You love me." 

It was said so quietly that neither of them even knew if it had been spoken aloud. In fact, neither of them knew who had even said it in the first place. But it was true. It was the singular most truthful sentence both of them had heard in the past six thousand years of existing. 

Aziraphale and Crowley watched each other. They sat in the same position, refusing to move in fear of making mistakes. 

The hand on Crowley's own let go. He nearly protested, but as soon as Aziraphale had placed it on his other cheek he shut up, finding that they were much closer now than they ever had been before. Aziraphale's eyes wandered downwards slightly. Their noses brushed. Crowley's fingers latched onto Aziraphale's tan colored lapels, desperate to hold tight. He never looked away from those storm cloud blues. 

Crowley's knuckles went white from clutching the jacket, eyes sliding shut as their lips met. He relished the sensation of cool air coming in through his nose but never going back out, instead focusing on how Aziraphale pressed himself further onto Crowley's touch. 

Aziraphale's hands moved on their own accord, finding a place to mess with Crowley's darkened ginger locks. He parted his lips slightly, feeling more than hearing as Crowley exhaled. His heart couldn't figure out if it wanted to go fast or slow, making his head spin and chest hurt. Somehow he didn't wish it to end. 

He'd needed this. He had needed it for a very, very long time. Ever since he had allowed himself to feel the emotions radiating off of Crowley, ever since he had let himself feel those same emotions, he had needed. The back of his mind screamed at him for not telling Crowley sooner. 

Aziraphale's fingers ran through Crowley's hair again, pulling a small hiss from the other man, followed by the insistent tug on Aziraphale's lip. Aziraphale complied without a complaint. 

Crowley needed it more, Aziraphale thought, turning his body so that Crowley could rest his arms around him in a more pain free position. Crowley had been waiting for far longer than Aziraphale had. Without telling about the disability, though, Aziraphale knew this wouldn't - couldn't - happen. Crowley needed it more. He needed everything more. 

Aziraphale inhaled sharply. He blinked, movements sluggish, and parted from Crowley. He gulped. 

"Yes." 

Crowley's eyes opened just as slowly. Neither person moved. Although they had parted they were still in close proximity. 

"What?" Crowley slurred. He seemed out of it; almost dizzy. Aziraphale couldn't blame him. He felt about the same way. 

There was a mutual bout of silence where both parties hesitated. Aziraphale leaned forward, pecking Crowley's lips. He breathed in, trembling, and traced Crowley's cheekbone once more. 

"I do love you." 

Crowley's face flushed. If Aziraphale weren't an angel he would have thought something were completely wrong. Lucky enough for them, Aziraphale was, in fact, an angel. He smiled gently. 

"It's alright, dear," Aziraphale said. He leaned back, immediately missing their closeness. The sensation still flowed from Crowley, now in doubled amounts. "I know." 

Crowley nodded, clearing his throat. "You seem to know a lot about me." 

Aziraphale's ears turned a bright shade of red. He fidgeted. "I'm still terribly sorry, Crowley. I just thought it better if you were to tell me rather than I point it out. I was wrong. I apologise." 

They hadn't looked away from each other in all that time, Aziraphale noted. He let himself have a small wiggle of happy satisfaction. 

"It's, er," Crowley began, his skin regaining a bit of color, stuttering under his breath for a few more seconds. "Thanks, angel." 

Aziraphale beamed as bright as he could muster. Crowley grabbed his glasses and put them back on, smiling himself. He rolled his shoulders. They crackled from the inside. 

"Perhaps this ordeal should have waited for a better day," Aziraphale suggested, feeling guilty at the wince on Crowley's face. 

Crowley shook his head and stretched his legs out fully. He dropped his hand next to Aziraphale's, pinky extended out. Aziraphale wrapped his own finger over Crowley's, taking the affection for as much as he could. It would take time. Aziraphale knew that. He found he did not much care. 

"Actually, angel," Crowley said after a period of comfortable silence,"I'm feeling much better now." 

It was the second truest truth they had heard in a very, very long time. 


End file.
